Godspeed
by azulfanatica
Summary: When an eight-year-old case is brought to review, the team has twenty-four hours to keep a psychotic killer in prison. The crisis brings tensions to a boiling point between Eric and Calleigh, and their friendship might change forever.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Set between ep.6x10, "CSI: My Nanny," and ep.6x19, "Rock and a Hard Place." Not beta'd. Credit for the lullaby goes to the Dixie Chicks and "Godspeed, Sweet Dreams."

I've been sitting around with this story on my hands for a while. I wanted to avoid too much fluff on this one, but alas, the last chapters commend themselves to much fluff and angst. They are extremely close to being finished, but I would love some input on how it could end, so that I can _move on_. Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Eric was exhausted. Collapse-on-the-couch, never-wake-up kind of exhausted. _My sisters better be damn glad I love them_, he thought to himself. Years ago, when Isabel, Clara, and Gabriela first started having kids, they volunteered to babysit for each other on birthdays and anniversaries.

Slowly, the brood of children began to grow, and the women couldn't take on the responsibility of their own offspring _plus_ their sisters'. Eric became the go-to babysitter.

It was a role he secretly cherished; Eric was the baby in his family—even amongst all his cousins—and he enjoyed getting to be the crazy, fun uncle who spoiled all nine of his nieces and nephews. _Well, nine-and-a-half_, he thought with a laugh. Clara was expecting again.

This weekend, however, had been demanding for the normally unflappable uncle. Isa's oldest son, Alejandro, came down with the chickenpox this week and the six-year-old was therefore quarantined at his abuela's house. Isa's other three children, Lucas, Mateo, and Magdalena, currently sat huddled with Eric on his living room sofa watching _Finding Nemo_.

Feeding, showering, dressing, and entertaining three children under the age of five is challenging in itself, but the task quadrupled in difficulty when those three children missed their brother and mami and papi.

_Thank goodness for Disney,_ Eric chuckled, singing along with Dory in his head as he watched the television screen: _Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimmiiiiing…Oh my God. I need to get out more._

Just then, Eric's phone buzzed noisily on the end table by the couch. He carefully reached over to answer it, hoping against hope that it wasn't work. It was.

"Delko."

"Eric," said the familiar voice over the phone. "It's Horatio."

"Hey, H," Eric sighed tiredly.

"We've got a situation."

"And you need me to come in?"

"Yes, sir, I do." he said apologetically.

"Horatio," Eric paused, looking at the three sleepy little monsters bundled up around him. "Horatio, do you know what you're asking me right now?" He wouldn't normally question his boss—ever—but exactly what was he supposed to do with these kids?

"Eric, I know you've had this weekend off planned for months—"

"H—it's Isa's tenth anniversary. Lucas, Mateo and Lena are here."

"Oh," Horatio quietly chuckled. "I see, then…Well, bring them with you."

"What?" Eric asked, not sure he'd quite heard his LT correctly.

"Bring them with you. You're not going out in the field. But I need you here—the governor's granted a 24-hour stay of execution for Anthony Rutherford. It's your case, and we need all hands on deck."

Anthony Rutherford. That bastard raped and murdered four innocent women in cold blood eight years ago. Eric had only been on the job for a year or so. He worked the case with Calleigh and Speedle, but _he_ was the one to discover and recover the key evidence linking Rutherford to all four murders. And _his_ testimony put Rutherford behind bars, awaiting the electric chair.

Eric sighed again. "Okay, I'll be there. But it might take me a little while to gather everyone up."

"That's fine. Get here as soon as you can."

"Alright. Bye, H."

Eric heard the phone click shut. He looked at his nephews and niece and made a snap decision: they were bathed and dressed in their pajamas, and they would stay that way. He laughed: he was about to trudge into CSI headquarters with three small children, complete with diaper bags and Mickey Mouse footies.

_Better get a move on…_

Forty-five minutes later, Eric walked off the elevators on the sixth floor of the Miami Dade Crime Lab to a rather curious sight.

"Back up!"

"No, you back up! To your left a little—there."

"Simmons, you're like a foot taller than me, bring your end down."

"Bring yours up!"

Eric laughed. Hard. He recognized Ryan Wolfe and a tall African American night shift technician he knew by the name of Walter carrying the sofa from the break room down the hall.

"What the heck are you guys doing?" Eric called good-naturedly.

A red-faced Ryan whipped to look at him. "Not right now, Delko," he paused, taking in the sight of his friend buried under a mountain of…child. "When did you go and pop out a few kids?"

Eric followed Walter and Ryan toward Horatio's office, with his leather messenger bag-turned briefcase over his shoulder, a diaper bag over the other, one cranky twin on each hip, and a tired-looking four-year-old clutching his denim pant leg. Of course, the front wheel on the stroller had decided tonight was the night to snap off.

"They're not mine, you idiot."

"Obviously," Ryan strained under the weight of the couch. They'd made it into H's office now, and the two men set the couch down, facing the one already there. "But whose are they?"

"My sister Isabel's."

"I thought she had four kids?"

"Alejandro's at my mom's. He has the chickenpox."

"Eric," Horatio walked up, taking Magdalena from her uncle's arms so the man could set down his briefcase on one of H's chairs. "Hi sweetheart," he crooned softly to Lena.

He turned to Walter and Ryan, "Thank you gentlemen." The night-shift tech nodded his head and headed out of the office, back to his lab station.

"What's the couch for, anyway?" Ryan asked.

"Well," Horatio said, "These kids need a place to sleep."

"Ah. Right." Ryan didn't really get why Eric had three of his sister's kids at work, or why he'd just carried a massive piece of furniture down the hall to create a makeshift bed for them, but he wasn't about to ask questions.

"Where's Alejandro?" Horatio queried, grabbing a blanket from the bottom drawer of his desk and spreading it out, one-handed, over the conjoined couches.

"Chickenpox. He's at my mom's," Eric explained again. He took in the elaborate set up in Horatio's office and said, "You didn't have to do this."

Horatio was a softy, though, and Eric knew he wanted to make sure his niece and nephews were as happy and comfortable as possible. Not to mention the whole team would be up all night working on this case.

"It's nothing." He set little Magdalena on the bed, and Eric followed suit with Mateo. Then he hoisted Lucas up and over the armrests to join his brother and sister. "Get them settled and I'll get you up to speed. Mr. Wolfe, have you reached our witness yet? It's getting late."

Ryan groaned. He'd called four times. Still no answer. "Not yet. I'll call again. Drop by in the morning," he said as he retreated from the office.

As Horatio filled Eric in on the Rutherford crisis, the young CSI dug in the diaper bag, unloading the essentials: Lucas' stuffed bear and favorite blanket, Mateo's pacifier and ratty stuffed turtle, and Lena's soft little baby doll and an old T-shirt of her uncle's. The last item was inextricably Lena's favorite—she used it as a blanky-substitute and took it with her everywhere.

He removed a few juice boxes and snacks from the bag and went behind Horatio's desk to place them in his small refrigerator. Meanwhile, H continued to update him, simultaneously wheeling his flat-screen TV to the corner of the office at the end of the couches.

_Perfect_, Eric thought, and pulled out the unfinished DVD he stashed in the bag on the way out the door. He handed it to his boss and Horatio slipped it into the player. Eric took another large blanket out of the bottom of the bag and laid it out for the trio of brown-eyed little Delkos… well, Romeros.

"So," Horatio concluded. "The governor granted the stay based on the unexplained fibers and the stray blood drop on the third victim. He can't ignore your testimony, or the fingerprints and tire treads you analyzed."

Eric ran a hand over his forehead. "But all Rutherford needs is a shred of reasonable doubt for an appeal. Natalia's working on the blood?"

"She's in DNA as we speak, and Calleigh is going back over all the knife marks and spatter patterns."

"Actually, I'm right here," Calleigh called from the open door. "Well isn't this just cozy?" she said with a bright smile as she spied the kids on their 'bed.'

"Tía Calleigh!" Lucas brightened up for the first time in several hours. He stood up, preparing to launch himself at Calleigh, when his uncle warned him, "Lucas…"

Instead, he waited for Calleigh to swoop him into a tight hug. She planted a kiss on his cheek, which he pretended he didn't like, even though the giant grin on his face said otherwise.

Eric gave Calleigh a small smile. The last words they had exchanged before he left work early yesterday were in anger. Eric had stepped between her and a suspect; he ended up with a punch to the face. Instead of being concerned about his well-being, Calleigh snapped at him for interfering. She would have handled it.

They spent ten minutes arguing, Calleigh complaining that he treated her differently, and Eric insisting that he wasn't trying to subvert her authority in the interrogation room.

--FLASHBACK--

"Cal, I didn't mean anything by it! He got angry, and I reacted. I'm sorry."

Calleigh rolled her eyes and glared at Eric. "He wasn't going to hurt me, you just made things worse."

"How do you know that, Calleigh? How do you know he wouldn't have done the exact same thing to you?" Eric shuddered with the memory of Calleigh being held at gunpoint by her kidnapper, and him not able to do a damn thing to help her. The image was burned into his consciousness, and he couldn't shake it.

Calleigh knew what he was thinking about. "Do you honestly doubt that I can do my job because of what happened?"

"That's not it at all!" Eric didn't doubt her in the least. His worries about her safety stemmed from his own desire to protect her at all costs.

"Eric, there's no way you would have stepped in front of that suspect if he was threatening Wolfe. You treat me differently, admit it!"

"Of course I do, Cal! But it's not because I don't think you can do your job!"

"Then, why?"She knew the answer to that question. She knew it would hurt him to answer it, and she knew she would regret it later, but she was mad and wanted to hear him admit it.

"You know why, Calleigh."_Because I'm desperately in love with you._

He wasn't going to do this. He saw the blaze in her eyes, and he knew she was just angry.

_Damn him_. Eric saw the fire in her gaze dim down a notch, and he decided to take his chances with the truth. "I get overprotective where you're concerned. You're right. But I can't change that and I won't apologize for it."

The seconds ticked by before she finally responded with a laden sigh, "Eric, just leave. Please." The fight had gone out of her.

He gave a heavy sigh of his own and complied, not wanting to argue anymore. Calleigh didn't watch him leave, and Eric walked out the door without turning back.

--END FLASHBACK--

Calleigh had tried to call last night, but Eric was juggling three kids and was still a little angry with her; he didn't answer. As he looked at her right now, he knew he wasn't angry. He could never stay mad at her for long. They both apologized with their eyes, and in an instant the whole argument was a thing of the past. They fought, they made up, it's what they did.

Lucas' small voice brought them back to the present. "Tía Calleigh, Tío says we have to stay here t'night," he complained, his happy smile turning into a pitiful frown. "Are you stayin', too?"

"I am," she smiled down at him. "Nice pajamas."

"Where are your pajamas?"

"Well, I have to work for a little while. So I'm not wearing mine."

"Oh. Tío has to work, too," Lucas whispered conspicuously.

Calleigh chuckled and whispered back, just as loudly, "I know." She patted him on the backside and set him back on the couch. She counted only three small heads.

"Where's Alejo?"

Eric smiled. "He's at my mom's with the chickenpox."

"Where are we with the toolmarks, Ms. Duquesne?"

"Well, I've been over everything three times in the last two hours. I went over it a hundred times eight years ago. We're not missing anything. The same knife killed all four women. The knick on the blade left a distinctive mark on the bones of victims one and three, and the tearing patterns of the wounds are consistent for all four vics."

"That is good news, Calleigh."

"Yep," she agreed. "The problem is, we still don't have the murder weapon, and can't tie it to Rutherford."

"No," Eric sighed, sitting on the armrests of the couch and reaching over to hand Mateo his turtle. "But we do have the tread marks. I'll re-examine the treads, but I'm as positive now as I was then that Anthony Rutherford's tires made those marks."

"We have something to link him to every crime scene," Calleigh remarked. "And evidence interlinking each of the murders. Even without DNA from the rape kits, Eric found an imprint of _Rutherford's hand_ on the thighs of two of the victims. Horatio, how is this even being reconsidered?"

"Politics," he said simply. "We'll let the evidence speak for itself. We need to take a second look at everything, especially the fibers and blood spatter."

"I'm just starting with the blood patterns. I'll let you know what I find," Calleigh said.

"Thank you, ma'am." Calleigh ruffled Lucaslas' hair and placed a quick kiss on Lena's head before she exited Horatio's office.

With one last glance at the children snuggled up on the couches, entranced once more with _Finding Nemo_, Eric stood up to leave. "They seem settled. I'll start on the treads."

"Find me," Horatio said. Eric snatched his bag and headed to his lab.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

"H!" Eric trotted down the hallway to catch up to his red-headed boss, who was just closing his cell phone.

"What is it, Eric?"

Eric held out the file in his hands. "I've been over this a thousand times, H. It comes back the same every time. Rutherford's SUV left those tire treads. The manufacturing, the wear pattern, balding on the back left, nail in the front right—it was him."

"Okay," Horatio placed his hands on his hips and thought for a second. "Okay. That confirms what we knew all along."

"There's more, though. As I was going through the old evidence boxes, I found the security footage from the storage facility across from Rutherford's apartment complex and the parking garage at the office building where he worked."

"Right. We went through them to establish a timeline, verify his whereabouts."

"No."

"No?"

"H—we had three months' worth of footage, and only a general idea of when the women were killed."

"What are you saying, Eric?"

"Horatio, we messed up." Eric scratched the back of his head. Admitting they made a mistake was not something Eric liked to do, especially with so much at stake.

"How so?"

"Tim and I were still going through the footage when Calleigh isolated the knife marks that tied the victims together. I had the fingerprints and treads to put Rutherford at every scene…"

Horatio knew what was coming. He remembered clearly, now; they had a new and ambitious DA that pressed for a hasty trial on the high-profile case. "With the eyewitness testimony, the prosecutor's office pressed for a quick trial. You never finished watching the tapes, did you?"

Eric shook his head. "We had to hand over the evidence so fast, prepare to testify. It didn't seem important at the time."

"And now?"

"Now—I think back to the trial and remember something. Rutherford, when we asked him in interrogation to provide an alibi for the period of time during which each of the women went missing, he gave us a general story about being at work."

"I remember."

"But during the trial, when he was on the stand and the prosecutor asked him the same question, he mentioned _specific_ days that he worked the night shift. Even mentioned that his truck was in the shop on one occasion."

"You're saying he knew exactly when those women were attacked and murdered."

"Yes. Even _we _didn't know that. Before, we had so much footage to go through, we didn't know what to look for. I pulled the court transcripts—" Eric held out a slip of paper, "and figured out the exact dates Rutherford was referring to."

Horatio was beyond grateful for Delko's thoroughness at the moment. "We need to see those tapes."

Eric nodded, and they hurried together down the hall toward the A/V lab.

* * *

The night shift A/V tech, a guy named Lewis Campbell, greeted them as they entered the lab. Eric handed him a box full of old VHS tapes.

"What do we have here?" Lewis asked.

"Security footage from the Rutherford case," Eric explained. "The pile on the right came from his apartment complex, the pile on the left from his work."

"There must be months' worth of tape here," the tech commented skeptically. "There's no way we can go through all of this in time."

Eric dearly wished for Sam right now. Horatio held out the slip of paper Eric had given him earlier. "We only need to see the footage from these dates. Day of, and the day before and after."

"That narrows things," Campbell said. "Pull up a chair gentlemen."

They proceeded to sift through the box, searching for the tapes from the dates in question. Tapes located, they got to work, watching them in fast-forward, keeping a keen eye out for Rutherford and his black SUV.

"Wait, stop there," Eric indicated to Campbell. "Right there. See that?"

Horatio strained his eyes to notice anything different on the screen. "The time stamp just disappeared."

"What?" the lab technician asked in surprise. He rewound the tape. Sure enough, the time stamp vanished.

"Horatio, something's not right. We've seen this before," Eric said.

"We have. Campbell, go back to the tapes from the day before this."

He did, and the only discernible difference on the screen was the reappearance of the time stamp at the bottom right corner.

Campbell stared at the screen in surprise. "Someone's looped these tapes."

Eric groaned and scrubbed his face with his hand. They should have caught this years ago.

"Don't beat yourself up," Horatio told Eric. "You might have just broken the case…again. The looped footage coincides exactly with the dates Rutherford alluded to in his testimony."

Eric addressed the A/V tech again, "How could someone have accessed the security cameras to tamper with the tapes?"

"Well, even eight years ago the cameras would have been run on-site from a computer. I guarantee you this system was based electronically, the footage was just recorded to VHS instead of the computer's hard drive or a server."

"So he could have hacked remotely into the computer system to change what the cameras were recording on the tapes."

"Exactly."

"How hard is that to do?"

"Not hard at all, anyone with minimal training could pull it off. Look, I'll show you."

He started typing, and soon a picture of the trace lab came into view on the monitor. Calleigh stood over a work table pouring over evidence. "This is real time. Now watch—" a few keystrokes more and Horatio and Eric watched the time stamp disappear.

"This is looped. You'd only know the difference if you looked really carefully." Campbell hit a key and the real-time footage came back on screen. Calleigh had moved across the room without them noticing.

"Okay. Is there any way to link the tampered video to the person who hacked the computer system?"

Campbell frowned. "Sorry, man. If I had access to the computer that originally ran the security system, maybe. But even then it depends on the way the hacker accessed the system. Wish I could be more help."

"No, this is good—" Horatio began, but his attention drifted to the small figure poking its head around the door of the trace lab. "Eric," he chuckled. "Is that Mateo?"

"Oh, no," Eric groaned. "How did he get off the couch? And your office door was closed."

"He's two. He's inventive," Horatio smiled. "Look, Calleigh's got him."

Eric breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Calleigh crouch down by the door to talk to his nephew. He was obviously upset. She picked him up and began rubbing his back.

"Hey, Campbell, can you get sound on this thing? I just want to make sure he's okay."

"Sure…"

* * *

Calleigh huffed in frustration as she studied the photos in front of her. Nothing had changed. She couldn't explain the gravitational drops of blood on the third victim. But those were the exception to the rule; _every other_ piece of evidence pointed to Rutherford.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a chubby little hand sneak around the frame of the door. She eyed it for a moment, and soon, a little arm followed the tiny hand, then a curly-haired head.

"Mateo," Calleigh grinned. "What are you doing here?"

She became worried when she saw his tear-stained face. "Where's Tío?" he cried softly.

"Aww, honey," she squatted so they were eye-level. "What happened?"

"I got scared," he said miserably. "I want Tío."

Calleigh gathered the boy into her arms. "I don't know where he is right now. Do you want to go look for him?" She held onto him and rocked him gently back and forth, back and forth, trying desperately to stop the little boy's tears.

He shook his head. "I'm okay now."

Calleigh laughed. "You are?"

"Uh-huh."

Calleigh didn't believe him, because he still had tears streaming down his face. She took him over to the desk and grabbed a tissue to wipe his runny nose.

"Can I stay here?" he asked in his two-year-old way that Calleigh couldn't deny.

"Sure, bud," she said. "But I have to keep working, and I want you to keep your eyes shut real tight, okay?" The last thing he needed to see were crime scene photos of raped and bloodied murder victims.

"'Kay," the boy agreed easily, squeezing his eyes shut, snuggling his face into Calleigh's neck.

This was different. She had nieces and nephews of her own, but they lived in Louisiana with her brothers. She didn't have much practice exploring her maternal side.

She knew she wanted a family, but until a couple months ago, Calleigh hadn't seriously considered the idea of having one of her own. Or at least she thought she hadn't. After the case with the murdered nanny, somehow Calleigh had conjured this mental picture of a dark haired little boy that looked just like Eric, but with deep, sea-green eyes. _Her_ deep, sea-green eyes.

It was an oddly familiar picture, and Calleigh had realized with a jolt the night of her kidnapping, while Eric slept soundly on her couch in the next room, that any time she'd remotely entertained the idea of starting a family in the last few years—she saw the beautiful face of that little boy.

She wouldn't let herself go there. She _couldn't_ let herself go there. Eric was her best friend—the best part of her life. They worked together. No matter how much she wanted it—and admitting that she wanted Eric was no easy feat for her—she couldn't cross that line.

She thought about their conversation at the Lambert house while they looked for Jonas' diving knife. She couldn't remember now why she'd asked him that question; it was dangerous territory…

--FLASHBACK--

"Can you imagine raising a family without any help? I mean, you know, given the hours we work."

"Yeah, I could. Definitely."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why? You don't think I'd be a good dad?"

"No. I think you'd be a great dad. I just never heard you mention having children before."

"Yeah, maybe when I find the—the right girl."

--END FLASHBACK--

The right girl. Calleigh decided not to touch that one. Seeing Eric interact with his family only confirmed what she knew all along—he would be an amazing father someday. The fact that some other woman would be called "mother" killed her.

The age-old ache of loneliness settled in the pit of her stomach. Glancing down, the sight of Mateo tucked trustingly under her chin eased her pain the slightest bit.

His tears had turned to sniffles, but he was still upset. "Tía Calleigh?" Mateo asked in a small voice that Calleigh thought would break her heart.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Sing me a song?"

"A song?" she asked carefully. _I don't know any songs! What am I supposed to sing to a two-year-old? The wheels on the bus?!_

"Mami sings me songs at night."

Calleigh racked her brains trying to think of something she could sing to calm Mateo and lull him to sleep. She continued to rock him back and forth as she thought. Suddenly she remembered the song that came up on her iPod playlist this morning as she got ready for work. She closed her eyes and ran the melody through her mind, trying to summon all the words, hoping she got the tune right. Slowly, Calleigh began to hum the intro.

* * *

Back in the A/V lab, Eric sat transfixed. He watched Calleigh sway gently with his nephew in her arms.

"Tia Calleigh?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Sing me a song?"

"A song?" Eric could see the surprise on Calleigh's face, and knew she wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of singing out loud, much less think of a lullaby for a toddler to fall asleep to.

She surprised him when she closed her eyes, brows furrowing in concentration for a moment, relaxing when she found what she was looking for. Then, so slowly and quietly Eric wasn't sure if he heard it all, Calleigh began to hum a sweet, low tune.

She walked around the room, feeling out the rhythm of the song, still swaying with Mateo, and finally opened her mouth to sing.

_Dragon tales and the "water is wide"  
Pirates sail and lost boys fly  
Fish bite moonbeams every night  
And I love you_

_Godspeed, little man  
Sweet dreams, little man  
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings  
Godspeed  
Sweet dreams_

Horatio stood behind Eric, and he could feel the younger man tense up as Calleigh sang. He had known Calleigh for ten years, and he'd never heard her sing before. Nothing prepared him for the dulcet sound that came out of her mouth— a tender, penetrating voice that seemed to emanate from her core.

Calleigh's voice took hold of Eric in a way he didn't know was possible. It wrapped around him, through him, became a part of him, and he knew he could never live without this woman. Watching her with Mateo—it took his breath away, and every fiber of his being longed for this boy to be _their _child that Calleigh gently rocked to sleep.

_  
The rocket racer's all tuckered out  
Superman's in pajamas on the couch  
Goodnight moon will find the mouse  
And I love you_

_Godspeed, little man  
Sweet dreams, little man  
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings  
Godspeed  
Sweet dreams_

Eric tried to blink back the tears that filled his eyes as he listened to his best friend sweetly sing. Mateo's eyes were drooping shut, his own tears long dry. He curled a fist into Calleigh's long blond hair, the other rested on his tiny stomach and clutched the front of Calleigh's shirt. He hung on to her, trusted her. He slipped into the world of quiet slumber. And, still, Calleigh sang.

_  
God bless mommy and match box cars  
God bless dad and thanks for the stars  
God hears "Amen," wherever we are  
And I love you_

Calleigh lovingly hummed the last few notes of the song, rocking Mateo a bit longer before she fell silent. She stopped her swaying motion, as well, and simply stood staring at the tiny figure resting in her arms.

Eric concentrated on the emotions crossing Calleigh's face, and he felt his pulse begin to race. _She wants this, _Eric screamed in his head. _She wants this!_ It was unmistakable, and it was infuriating.

He watched as she fought with herself, as her shoulders gently shook with the struggle, as she battled against her wants and needs and fears and desires. He watched as the walls formed back around her heart. He watched a single tear slip from the corner of her eye, and Calleigh swipe it angrily away.

In a flash, and before he even knew what he was doing, Eric jumped up, sending his swivel chair flying backward, and slammed a finger hard on the keyboard of the console. The screen went black. He left his finger where it was and stood frozen, breathing fast. His body hummed with desire, with anger, with heartbreaking sadness.

Seeing Calleigh react to Mateo that way, knowing that she wanted it all but wouldn't let herself have it, that would haunt Eric for the rest of his life.

_What did I do wrong? What did I _do wrong_? _he asked himself over and over.

"Eric?" Horatio asked cautiously a few feet away.

He slowly rotated to face his long-time friend, who was really more family than boss. "H, I—I need…" Eric didn't know what he needed. "I need to go." He raced blindly out of the A/V lab, past Horatio and a very confused night-shift lab tech, not knowing where he was headed.

Eric wandered aimlessly out of the building, turning the corner and ending up in a small concrete patio area hidden behind the side exit. He came here on his breaks for fresh air, to steam when Wolfe pissed him off, to think when cases became too much.

Horatio found him only a few minutes later, sitting on the ground against the fountain in the middle of the plaza. Eric's elbows rested on his bent knees and his head lay despondently in his hands.

They were in the middle of a crisis, but Horatio needed to take the time to talk to Eric now if he wanted to avoid an even bigger crisis with his team. He approached the man slowly. Not seeing any movement from Eric, Horatio silently eased himself down to sit next to his brother-in-law.

They stayed that way for a long time. Neither said a word; Eric knew Horatio could see right through him, but the red-headed man simply sat in silence, waiting patiently for Eric to get this off his chest.

Head still bowed, Eric couldn't look at his boss as he said, "I'm sorry H."

"Don't apologize, Eric." Horatio surprised him, and he looked up to read the older man's face. Their eyes connected, and Eric found honest-to-God truth there.

"You can't change the way you feel about her." He stopped to contemplate his next words. "Been there done that," he said with a mirthless laugh.

"Yelina?"

Horatio just nodded heavily and played with the cuff of his sleeve. They sat in silence once more.

"How did you know?" Eric asked softly.

H smiled knowingly. "It's my job to know," he chuckled.

_Yeah, I guess it is_, Eric thought with an inward smile. "How long?"

Another wry chuckle. "Officially or unofficially?"

"What?"

"Officially, since your shooting. Unofficially, since the day you laid eyes on her."

Eric laughed. He guessed in some ways, that was true. Thinking about that hurt, though, and Eric's laughter vanished as quickly as it appeared. He studied his hands for a moment.

"She won't let me love her."

Horatio barely heard Eric, he spoke so quietly. Suddenly, Eric's head snapped up; their eyes met once more and Eric was speaking. His voice cracked with emotion, "Why won't she let me love her?"

Horatio wished he had an answer. Because he hated seeing his CSI—make that _CSIs_—this way. They never let it interfere with their work, but he could see the toll this took on their friendship, on the entire team. _Rick Stetler and his rules be damned_, Horatio thought. _My CSIs _not_ dating is worse than them _dating_. _

He knew that Calleigh and Eric would be professional enough to keep any romantic relationship out of the office. The unknown, the games, the angst of _not _being together—that's what invaded their lives at work.

"Have you asked Calleigh that?"

"We're best friends. We work together. Same story." The young Cuban man next to him sighed deeply, utter frustration etched his features. "I _told her_, I told her I would switch shifts, I would quit for her."

Horatio raised his eyebrows at that. "No, sir," he said forcefully. "No one is leaving my team."

Eric had actually given this a lot of thought, especially after everything that happened a few weeks ago with Cooper and Calleigh's abduction. She let him take care of her that night, but she effectively shut him out emotionally.

"I can't be here. I can't work like this, H. I can't—"

Horatio grasped Eric's arm, squeezing hard to make sure he conveyed his point. "_No one_ is leaving my team."

Eric shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. "Maybe Calleigh's right," he whispered.

"She usually is," Horatio chuckled, "but not this time, Eric…not this time."

"You're my boss, you're supposed to tell me this is wrong." Eric didn't understand why Horatio was actually encouraging him to break department protocol.

"No, I'm not. Eric," Horatio stated. "I'm your friend, and I'm telling you that what you and Calleigh have could never be wrong." Eric stared at H like he'd grown another head. "We'll work this out. I can pull the right strings."

"You'd do that?"

"Yes."

Horatio made it sound so simple. But it wasn't. "It doesn't matter. It still depends on Calleigh. She doesn't want things to change, and I just can't keep doing this forever."

Horatio Caine was not about to stand by and watch his team fall apart—watch two of his closest friends fall apart. "Eric—when I married Marisol… I don't know," he bowed his head, not knowing where that statement was going. This day was beginning to catch up to him, along with the pain of seeing Eric and Calleigh hurting like this. "Don't give up on Calleigh. Most people don't get this _once_ in a lifetime."

Eric had nothing to say. He spread his legs out straight in front of him and leaned hard against the concrete fountain, hands motionless in his lap. Horatio settled in the same position, and they just sat like that, the air heavy around them.

That's how Calleigh found them ten minutes later: silent, leaning against the fountain in the middle of the plaza, legs sprawled out on the ground. "There y'all are!" she cried as she rounded the corner.

Eric and Horatio jumped slightly as she broke the stillness of the night, and they quickly moved to stand up. Calleigh hadn't missed, however, the contemplative expressions on their faces. _Almost pained_, she said to herself, trying to figure out why her boss and her colleague would spend an hour MIA when they only had 24 to find more evidence against Anthony Rutherford.

_It must be important_, she said to herself. She hadn't seen either of these men so somber in a very long time. They'd plastered false smiles on their faces when she approached, but she was a CSI, for Pete's sake, she could spot a lie a mile away.

"Everything okay?" she asked sincerely.

Horatio answered for both of them, not trusting Eric to pull off a believable response at the moment. "Everything's fine, ma'am. We were just heading in."

Like Calleigh said, she was a CSI, and she could spot a lie a mile away. She chose to ignore it; she'd get the truth out of Eric later. Right now, they had a serial killer on death row to worry about.

"Good," she said warily, looking between Eric and Horatio before she continued. "Natalia's found something you need to see."

"Excellent." The trio turned to go inside. Calleigh led the way, and behind her, Horatio gave Eric a look that said, one more time, 'Don't give up. Everything will be fine.'

Eric appreciated the support from this man he respected so much. He never expected that from Horatio, never intended to have this conversation with him. Eric underestimated his boss. _He's been there. With Julia, Yelina, Marisol. _Horatio knew that love didn't always wait for convenient circumstances, or always come in neatly wrapped packages. Love was something you worked for, something you fought tooth and nail for.

Horatio witnessed the resolve that settled in Eric's countenance. He nodded firmly to H and looked ahead at Calleigh's figure, a new fire in his eye.

_Good man_, Horatio cheered to himself. _Give her hell._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Eric, Calleigh, and Horatio entered the DNA lab a few minutes later. As they passed Horatio's office, Eric noticed Mateo sound asleep, curled up next to his twin sister and sucking his fingers.

"Finally, there you are," Natalia said as the group walked in. She could barely contain her excitement. Everyone gathered around the glass table in the middle of the lab, Ryan joining them from the other side of the lab.

"I found something," she gushed. "You know that stray blood drop found on the third vic, Casey Hiller?" The group nodded. "Well, I ran it through CODIS."

Eric spoke up, "We did that eight years ago."

"He wasn't in the _system_ eight years ago. Actually, he's not in the system now," she smiled, knowing she had her colleagues stumped.

"How do you know who it is, then?" Calleigh asked.

"Well, I know the blood is XY. I also know that it is a familial match to a man who's serving fifteen years in a federal penitentiary in Texas for armed robbery. CODIS came back with a hit on a man named Owen Wagner."

It was Ryan's turn to amaze his colleagues. "We cross-referenced Wagner with every name involved in the investigation back in 2000. Guess what we found?"

"Please, tell us Mr. Wolfe."

"Owen Wagner has a son. A son that lives here in Miami."

"Are you telling me we have another suspect, Mr. Wolfe?"

"No," Natalia answered for Ryan. "Wagner's son, Michael Waters, was only three years old at the time of the murders."

Realization dawned on Eric. "Eight years ago the DNA comparison databases were still being constructed, weren't they Nat?"

"Yeah. Until the last few years, Miami Dade didn't have access to the kind of technology that could detect a familial match from a victim and connect it with a convicted felon across the country."

"How does a three-year-old's blood wind up on the body of a dead woman?" Calleigh inquired.

Eric knew the answer this time. "Pamela Waters. Pamela _Waters_ is the fourth victim, Cal."

"That's right," Natalia said. "We ran the DNA samples to confirm, and Michael Waters is Pamela Waters' son."

"Okay," Eric thought out loud, "if that's the case, we need to go back to the evidence." He grabbed the file off the table and riffled through it until he found the crime scene photos; he spread them out across the table for the team to see.

"We operated under the assumption that all four women were left at the primary crime scene. If that's true, how did the blood of the fourth victim's son end up on the third victim's clothing?"

"What if," Calleigh proposed, taking one of the photos in her hand, "the women were left at the scene of the murder, but not the scene of the primary crime? With nothing to suggest otherwise at the time, we just assumed that they were blindsided."

Ryan perked up, uncrossing his arms to lean against the edge of the table and over the photos splayed across the glass. "I like it. The primary crime wasn't murder, it was kidnapping. He moved them to a secondary location to kill them."

"You collected the fibers from the victims Eric, but Speedle analyzed them. What if he missed something?" Calleigh pondered.

"Speedle didn't miss things."

"Eric, I know you looked up to him. I did, too. But Tim wasn't perfect. He could have missed something. We never took into account the possibility of a secondary location."

Eric hated to admit it, but she was right. "Fine, I'll go back to the fibers. If you need me, I'll be in Trace."

"Wolfe, I need you with me in A/V," Horatio said.

"Got it boss."

"Eric, I'll go with you to Trace," Calleigh called after him before he could leave the lab. "I need to finish going over the blood spatter patterns."

"Okay." Spending time alone with Calleigh was the last thing Eric wanted right now, but they had a job to do. He held the door open, waiting for her to collect the case file from the table.

"Good work people," they heard Horatio say as they left the room. "Keep me informed."

Natalia returned to work on the DNA evidence. Wolfe took off toward the A/V lab to wait for Horatio. The latter, whose office was currently occupied, headed to the break room to call the DA with an update on their progress.

* * *

Twenty minutes passed in the trace lab before Calleigh finally said something to Eric.

"Okay, what's going on?" _I thought we were past the thing from yesterday._

Four hours ago Eric entered the lab genuinely happy to see her. As far as she knew, they hadn't gotten into any kind of tiff lately, and even so, they were getting better and better at talking those out—not bottling their feelings like this. For the last twenty minutes, Eric had spoken _maybe_ five words to her, and those only out of necessity.

Calleigh felt the tension rolling off his shoulders, the barely concealed anger. _Anger? I don't know, maybe it's more like… crap._ She knew that tension, that look.

She thought about the day that Jake had kissed her in the lab. The look on Eric's face was burned into her memory: sadness, disappointment, heartbreak and utter despair. Weeks—_weeks—_it took them to get back to level footing in their friendship. And after that, Eric still gave Calleigh that pained, wistful look when he thought she didn't see him.

Only since Jake's departure a couple weeks ago was their relationship truly on a path to restoration, with a little something new added into the mix. _It's that something new that is different_. That's why she couldn't really place the emotion now emanating across the space between her and Eric. She suddenly regretted asking Eric what was wrong; she wasn't sure she could deal with his answer.

Eric froze. He was trying his damndest to keep himself under control. Calleigh could read him like a book, so he knew he couldn't hide his current state of turmoil. He _could_, however, hide the depth of that turmoil.

He cleared his throat, willing his voice not to crack. As it was, he couldn't meet her eyes. Being in the same room with this woman was torture: watching her graceful movements, seeing how she brushed her hair subconsciously over her shoulder, breathing in her delicious scent—it all threatened to undo his carefully engineered wrath.

Because he _was_ still angry. Angry at this woman he loved so dearly, because she wouldn't let him in, won't let him give her what she so desperately wants and needs.

His anger served as a driving force; it fueled his determination to destroy the fortress around her heart. This time, this time Eric had a battering ram, fiery trebuchets, and a whole army at his back; retreat was not an option.

Eric was an impulsive man. He wore his heart on his sleeve and made no apologies for it. But most of all, he was patient. "Nothing," he replied to Calleigh's question.

Calleigh analyzed his response. His tone of voice indicated that something was indeed the matter, but he wasn't shutting her out. She almost felt like he was setting a trap for her, but then she shook her head and thought, _Eric wouldn't do something like that_.

Little did she know. Eric had a plan. He had a war strategy, a fierce battle plan that came to life with the soft, sweet tune of a lullaby, that took root with pictures of dragon tails and pirate ships and little boys with curly brown hair.

"Are you sure it's nothing? Eric, look at me," Calleigh insisted.

Finally, he made eye contact with the woman across the room. "Actually, no, it's not nothing. But now's not the time," he said with a quiet intensity that almost scared Calleigh.

She couldn't ever remember Eric like this, except for maybe when he went to Rio to avenge Marisol's murder. The fire in his eyes remained muted, but she saw it nonetheless. She took it for anger; he knew it as determination.

"Are you angry with me?" Calleigh asked. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something to make him mad; he wasn't ignoring Horatio, or sending strained vibes with Ryan in the room.

Eric looked up from the magnifying glass in his hand, fixing Calleigh with a penetrating stare. The honesty there really _did_ frighten her.

"A little," he sighed. He set the glass down on the table. _Now is not the time. Reign it in, Delko._ "A little. And I want to talk to you about it, but after we have nailed Anthony Rutherford's ass to the wall. Deal?"

Part of Eric wished he had been more forceful with his words, so that Calleigh knew exactly how upset he was. But he also knew the fact alone that he was angry with her would be enough to rattle her cage. _Good. Let her stew for a little bit._

Calleigh, for her part, stood motionless.

"Can I ask what I did? Is this about yesterday, because—"

"Later." Eric cut her off with a hard look.

"So you're just going to give me the silent treatment?" she asked, a little hurt.

Eric wavered. He couldn't treat her poorly without an explanation, but they had no time for that conversation at the moment.

Calleigh saw his features soften the slightest bit, and then he said with an apologetic grin, "No. I'm sorry. Cal, I just—I'm not angry with you, really. I just have some things on my mind that I want to talk to you about," he paused, needing to keep the upper-hand. "And I'm frustrated because I can't do that right now. We have eighteen hours to keep Rutherford from walking."

While he was talking, Calleigh had made her way over to stand beside him at the layout table. When he finished, she slowly reached a hand to cover one of his and gave it a little squeeze. The hurt shone in her eyes. "Eric, you're being really cryptic. You don't _do_ cryptic with me."

Eric laughed at that. No, he didn't do cryptic with Calleigh. Complicated, maybe, but never cryptic. That was part of the problem. He put everything on the table when it came to this woman, and—he knew she'd never consciously do it— his heart usually ended up being trampled. Calleigh left him open and raw and reeling.

Eric shook himself internally, and returned his focus to his best friend. He offered her a small wink and a grin to lighten the mood. "Well, Ms. Duquesne, right now you'll have to settle for dark and mysterious," he said playfully.

Calleigh gave a half-chuckle. "As long as you don't turn into dark, mysterious, and brooding," she said, worry evident in her tone.

He heard the tentativeness in her voice, and decided this would be a good time to push some of her boundaries. So, with a deep chuckle he bent down and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. It left his lips tingling, and by the look in Calleigh's wide eyes, it had much the same effect on her. "I promise, no brooding," Eric agreed easily.

_I won't brood. But the next 48 hours of your life are about to get very interesting, Cal. You won't know what hit you._ Eric mentally prepared himself for the fight he knew was coming, and began to calculate his moves before everything came to a head. If he had his way, and he would, Calleigh wouldn't stand a chance.

Calleigh stepped back when she noticed the gleam in his eye, still off-kilter from Eric's honesty and the brief contact between his lips and her skin. Not sure what to make of it, she just nodded her head, pursed her lips shyly, and went back to work across the room.

Two hours later, Eric cried out from his perch at the table. "Calleigh, come look at this."

In front of him on the table, Eric had positioned the fibers collected from each of the victims in a line in accordance with the timeline they'd established for the murders. In addition to the fibers, Eric had spent the last hour-and-a-half constructing a comprehensive timeline for _all_ the evidence, new and old.

Calleigh stopped beside him and leaned against the table, noticing the cause for all of Eric's excitement. Laid out this way, it was hard to miss. They shared a look and two satisfied smiles, and Eric flipped out his cell phone. "H, we need everyone in Trace, pronto."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

"Okay, where's the fire?" Wolfe asked as he entered the lab with Horatio.

"Ryan," Calleigh asked urgently, "have you guys gotten anything from the video tapes, yet?"

"Well, it would be easier if we knew what were looking for," he answered.

"We narrowed the search parameters," Horatio said, "and isolated the exact times Rutherford came and went within those periods of time. It's not enough."

"I think that's where we can help," Eric smiled.

"What did you find?" Natalia queried, her curiosity building.

Calleigh indicated the masterwork on the glass table. The group moved to surround it as she explained their findings. First, Calleigh pointed to the spatter analyses at one end of the table. "I went through this with a fine-tooth comb. Everything is consistent with the victims' blood, save for the _one_ blood drop, here," she held up the picture of Casey Hiller.

"We've been over this," Ryan complained impatiently.

Calleigh now pointed at the timeline. "Ryan, look at this. Eric put everything in order, including what we know now about the blood."

Eric jumped in. "I took another look at the fibers. I put them in the context of our new findings on the timeline and the DNA evidence."

"We knew that fibers matched on victims one and two, and then again on three and four," Calleigh said.

"We couldn't find the connection, until now," Eric grabbed several photos in his hand and shook them in front of his co-workers. "Look at the blood!"

"Eric, c'mon. We're tired, and we don't know what we're looking at. Just spit it out," Natalia groaned.

"Think about what we know now," he said. "The exact times these women were murdered. There was a secondary location! We found common trace on Alexis Sutton and Brittany Lancaster, the first and second vics—"

"But the trace came from Brittany Lancaster's apartment," Horatio interjected. _Damn!_

"H?" Wolfe asked. Horatio knew something he didn't.

"Eric cracked it!" Calleigh said excitedly. "Alexis Sutton was forced to help kidnap her own replacement, Brittany Lancaster. That's how the fibers from Brittany's apartment ended up on Alexis' clothes."

Eric motioned toward the glass table. "The timeline—Alexis had to have been held for nearly 72 hours before she was killed. Brittany's injuries dictate that she bled out in a matter of minutes, and she wasn't sexually assaulted like Alexis."

"Okay," Natalia considered. "What about the second two, Casey Hiller and Pamela Waters?"

"Same MO, with a few exceptions," Calleigh said.

"I have a theory about that," Eric said. "Brittany fought back. It threw Rutherford for a loop, because he didn't make another move for three weeks. With the next crime, he became exponentially more violent."

"Casey Hiller barely lasted 36 hours before she was raped and murdered. Somewhere in those 36 hours, she was in Pamela Waters' apartment. Only, if Rutherford was watching these women—which is probable—he couldn't have known that Pamela Waters gained custody of her son _two days_ before she was murdered."

"Calleigh, you're right." Now the pieces were coming together for Natalia. "Owen Wagner had primary custody of Michael Waters until he was convicted on the robbery charges. Michael went to live with his mother."

Ryan's mouth dropped open. "He witnessed his mother's kidnapping, which Casey Hiller helped execute. Only, he was too young to remember."

"Why didn't we know there was a child at the scene?" Horatio asked.

"There wasn't, when we arrived. That's the only catch," Eric said. "We need to figure out what happened to him."

"Who has primary custody, now?" Natalia questioned.

Calleigh went to sit at the computer and typed hurriedly on the keypad. Several seconds later, she said, "Elizabeth Waters, the boy's maternal grandmother."

"She's on my interview list for tomorrow," Ryan mentioned, looking at his watch. "I was planning on heading out in three hours."

Eric, Natalia, Ryan, and Calleigh turned to look at Horatio. At this point, he needed to make the executive decision about how to run with the evidence. He stood looking at the floor for a long moment, hands on hips, contemplating their next steps.

"Okay, here's what I want us to do," Horatio said in a low, even voice. "Eric, run with this timeline. I want every last shred of evidence keyed into this, including your original fingerprint and tread findings. Catalogue it, photograph it, and prepare it for testimony in court. I don't have to tell you, no mistakes.

"As for the rest of you, get everything you have to Eric. Calleigh, I need a revised report on the blood spatter and the knife wounds, then help Eric finish the final work-up.

"Natalia, back to the DNA from the blood. I want to know exactly how each of these victims is connected. Also, run back over the fibers one last time, make sure we haven't missed anything.

"Ryan, you're with me in A/V. In a few hours I want you knocking on Elizabeth Waters' front door. Everyone, clear?" Horatio stopped to take in his team. Their work had been impressive tonight; they worked as one, parried thoughts and ideas, and were about to keep a psychopath where he belonged on Death Row.

Nods and muttered 'yeses' met him around the table. He gave them a smile, "Good work, people. Get to it."

* * *

Eric currently sat in Horatio's office. The clock on the opposite wall read _6:21_, and he knew the kids would be awake soon. For now, he just sat staring at them, lost in innocent slumber. This case bugged him eight years ago, and today it got to him even more. He thought about Isabel; Lucas was the same age as Michael Waters when his mother was murdered. Eric couldn't fathom Lucas witnessing his own mother's kidnapping.

He reached down to brush a lock of hair from the boy's forehead and then gently leaned down to place a kiss where the hair once lay. Behind him, he heard someone quietly clear her voice.

Eric turned around in time to see Calleigh silently enter the office, unable to read the look on her face. He thought back to their recent case…

--FLASHBACK--

"Can you imagine raising a family without any help? I mean, you know, given the hours we work."

"Yeah, I could. Definitely."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why? You don't think I'd be a good dad?"

"No. I think you'd be a great dad. I just never heard you mention having children before."

"Yeah, maybe when I find the—the right girl."

--END FLASHBACK--

Eric silently, desperately willed Calleigh to understand. _It's you! It's always been you! _His brain screamed at the woman slowly approaching him where he sat on the arm of the couch. As she came to stand beside him, Eric didn't fight the temptation to take her hand in his and rest them on his thigh. She let him play with her fingers for a few brief moments before tensing and pulling away.

Eric just sighed and dropped his shoulders, turning his head from their un-conjoined hands to the three young children sleeping below him. He said nothing.

Calleigh sensed Eric's disappointment at their loss of contact. She couldn't handle being that close with him, their fingers intertwined when she wished it was their legs tangling, their bodies mingling in passionate fury. It was too much.

As a consolation prize, she settled for resting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. He looked back at her with a small smile.

"You okay?" Calleigh asked.

Eric knew that their argument from before was at the back of her mind. Right now, she was just worried about him. "Yeah, I'm good."

In a moment of weakness, Calleigh let her hand run up to caress the hollow at the base of Eric's head before she brought it back to lay on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch.

"Cal—do you ever feel like we're just running in circles?"

She dropped her hand, but didn't step away from him. _What exactly is he referring to?_

"How so?" she asked him.

Eric groaned and bowed his head, hand coming up to pinch his temples. He was frustrated, frustrated and tired. "Aah. I don't know." Again, he looked down at Lucas, Mateo, and Magdalena sound asleep on their 'bed.'

"We go to the crime scene, collect the evidence, interrogate the suspects, and catch the bad guy. Over and over and over."

"And sometimes you wonder, 'isn't there supposed to be more?'" Calleigh concluded for him.

Eric's eyes met Calleigh's and she sat down softly beside him on the back of the couch. "Yeah," he whispered. Inside, Eric was seething with resentment, because he knew that his 'more' was sitting right beside him. He was also seething because he could never be truly mad at her. _I love her too much._ Unfair.

He squeezed his eyes shut and once more brought a hand to his face. Next to him, Calleigh's eyes darted to Lena, where she stirred the tiniest bit. She knew what Eric wanted, and the fact that she couldn't give it to him broke her heart.

She wanted so badly to pick Lena up and cradle her tightly, selfishly drawing comfort from her warm little body. She craved the peacefulness of a child's private dreamland.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, until the buzzing of Calleigh's cell phone interrupted the calm of the office. _Damn it. Ryan._ She cleared her throat softly. "I just came by to let you know I'm going out with Ryan to interview the witnesses. I figured you had a handle on the report."

Eric tore his gaze from his niece and nephews. "Yeah, I do. Natalia's almost done with the blood samples and then we can start on the last bit of trace evidence, wrap it up when you guys get back."

"Sounds good," she said. She patted him on the leg and stood to go. "Call me if you need anything."

As Calleigh exited Horatio's office, she took one last look at the brown-haired beauties asleep on the couch. Then she was gone.

Eric saw the yearning she tried to hide, and he sent up a silent prayer. _God, please just give me this woman, give me Calleigh._

He smiled to himself. _God hears 'Amen,' wherever we are, and I love you…_

* * *

Three hours to go, and everything was finished. The evidence was incontrovertible. Anthony Rutherford raped and murdered Alexis Sutton, Brittany Lancaster, Casey Hiller, and Pamela Waters.

Ryan and Calleigh returned from their interviews with excellent news. Elizabeth Waters informed them that she thought Pamela had dropped off Michael in the middle of the night on the way to work. She recalled that the baby did have some scratches on his arm; at the time, Mrs. Waters chalked them up to Pamela's cat. Now, she recognized them for what they were—scratch marks received during his mother's abduction.

In fact, Michael was kidnapped as well. Pamela never dropped her son at her mother's house. Anthony Rutherford did, with Casey Hiller and Pamela Waters tied up in the back of his SUV. Why he didn't kill the boy would remain a mystery.

Eric's tread marks and fingerprints placed Rutherford at the scenes of the murders. He had cleverly dumped their bodies either along the women's usual routes, or near their place of employment, to make it seem like they were attacked where they were found. Add to the confusion, add to the thrill. Only Anthony Rutherford would ever know where the women were attacked; only he would ever remember the gruesome details of what he did to them. And he preferred it that way.

Calleigh's analysis of the knife marks stood uncontested. The same knife killed all four women. Responsible for one, responsible for all, murder weapon accounted for or not. The evidence spoke loud and clear on that point.

Natalia and Ryan's work with the DNA and the eye-witnesses proved vital. The one stray blood drop, the one that caused the governor to grant the stay of execution on grounds of reasonable doubt, pulled the entire case together. Michael Waters' blood explained how each victim was linked to the next. The eye-witness accounts and the security footage put the cherry on top of Rutherford's date with the electric chair.

With fatherly pride in his team, Horatio handed over the final report to Talbot, who proceeded straight to the governor. They had twenty-four hours; they could have done it in eighteen.

* * *

The night-shift had long since left. Walter stayed for a while to entertain Lucas, Mateo, and Magdalena while Eric finished the last touches on the Rutherford case.

"Thanks, man," Eric said with a tired laugh as he entered Horatio's office. Who knew Walter could fit three kids on his back, with room for one more?

Walter chuckled warmly. "No problem, Delko. Alright folks, this horsey is _tired_!" He rose up slightly on his knees like a bucking bronco, and three ridiculous peals of laughter rang out into the lab. Calleigh heard the commotion and rounded the corner in time to see three little figures disembarking from Walter's back.

She nearly rolled in laughter at the thought of him entertaining those tiny terrors for the last several hours.

"You ever thought about switching to day-shift, Simmons?" Calleigh called lightly. They could use someone like him around the lab during the day.

Walter laughed. "Only every night," he said with a wink. He shook hands with Delko, and patted Calleigh's shoulder as he passed. "You guys take care," he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

"He's not half-bad," Eric said with a smile.

"I know," Calleigh laughed. "Was he seriously giving them all a pony-ride at once?"

"Yep."

They both laughed again. Eric started gathering up the kids' things, trying to straighten Horatio's office.

"I don't know what we're gonna do about this couch," he said a bit miserably. The last thing he felt like doing was hauling a couch around the Crime Lab after being on his feet for two days straight.

"I'm sure H will call maintenance." Eric sighed in relief; he hadn't thought of that.

"You headin' home?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah. Mariano and Isa are coming by in about an hour to pick up the kids."

"Mmm," she replied lazily. After a minute, she ventured, "Do—do you still want to talk?"

Having a difficult conversation with Eric was the last thing Calleigh wanted to do after being on her feet for two days straight. But the awkward tension between them wasn't going away, and she didn't think she could sleep, anyway, until they resolved at least some of it.

Eric's sleepy eyes opened wide at Calleigh's question, although she couldn't see them as his head was down. He brought his gaze to hers and gave a definitive answer. "Yes, I do. Uh, follow me home? We can grab some lunch on the way and take it back to my place."

"Actually, I don't have my car. Is there room for me in yours?"

Eric calculated the positions of the car seats, and he said with a grin, "Yes, if you don't mind sitting in the middle of the backseat scrunched between two screaming toddlers."

Calleigh grinned, too. "I don't mind at all," she said. Behind her grin, she was scared to death.

She helped him gather the remainder of the kids' things and scooped a giggling Lucas into her arms on the way out of Horatio's office. Eric held Mateo and Magdalena in each of his arms, and together they made their way out of the lab.

Horatio Caine stood hidden in the shadows, watching his two CSIs leave like a genuine family, three kids in tow. He saw the latent desire and indignation in Eric, and the fear and resignation in Calleigh.

_Godspeed_,_ Eric_.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Right now, this story is set to conclude with seven (maybe eight) chapters. Opinions?

Chapter 5

* * *

Eric and Calleigh sat in a heap on Eric's couch, utterly spent. Three hyperactive children were currently crawling all over their limp forms. Calleigh laughed out loud when Eric dropped his head heavily sideways against the back of the couch, eyes staring straight at her in desperation, lips and cheeks deformed by the pressure of Lucas' tiny hands.

Right then, the doorbell rang. "Thank God," Eric sighed in relief.

Calleigh freed herself from two wriggly twins and went to answer the door.

"Calleigh!" came the high-pitched greeting, and she saw a blur of brunette locks before a body came crashing into hers. Ensconced in a Delko bear hug, Calleigh could only return the embrace with equal fervor.

"Isabel," she said happily as Eric's sister kissed her cheek. "It's been way too long. Hey Mariano," Calleigh reached up to kiss his cheek as they walked into Eric's condo.

"Yes, it has. I didn't know you'd be here!"

Calleigh gave her a small smile. "Well, it wasn't really planned."

As Mariano went to greet his children, Isabel gave her little brother the look that said 'if you did anything in the presence of my children, I will break your neck with my bare hands.' Her glare didn't last long, however, until it turned into the look that said, 'but since it was Calleigh…'

Eric rolled his eyes. _Don't start, Isa_. "I had to go into work last night. The kids came with me. Don't worry," he added quickly at the look on his sister's face. "Horatio converted his office into a state-of-the-art nursery. Your children were fed and entertained, and enjoyed a lovely night's sleep."

"Unlike the rest of us," Calleigh grimaced.

"You guys haven't slept? Eric, you pulled a double two nights ago so that you could take the kids!"

Calleigh hadn't known that. In the last four days, Eric literally got nine hours of sleep. She looked at Eric in alarm. "Is that true?"

He looked at her sheepishly, dismissing her concern. "I'm fine."

"Eric, you've been up for four days. You took care of three kids for two of them, and you just worked—and solved—one of the biggest cases of your career."

"I'm fine!"

Now it was Isabel's turn to ask, "Is that true? About the case, I mean?"

"Yeah, it was a big case," Eric sighed. "And I am tired, so can we please stop with the third degree?"

"Fine, little brother. But get some rest. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"No, Calleigh and I both have the day off...Don't get any ideas," he warned as Isabel put some pieces together in her head—in the wrong order, Eric suspected.

It did look like Calleigh was staying with him, and he had inadvertently made it sound like they were an item. _Not that I'd argue._ He looked at Calleigh's blushing face, and came to a realization. _Actually, go ahead Isa, make her squirm. For once, I don't mind the scrutiny. _

From somewhere behind them, Isabel's husband Mariano spoke up, "Isa, babe, we really need to get going."

"Yeah, you're right. We've got to be at your parents' in twenty," she replied, checking the time on her cell phone.

They said their goodbyes, Isa thanked her brother one more time for taking care of her kids, and Eric shut the door behind them. Calleigh collapsed on the couch, and he just leaned his head back against the closed door.

The silence in the room loomed around them without the squeals and giggles of a four-year-old and two two-year-olds. Without a word, Eric propelled himself off the door and traipsed into the kitchen, where he took his and Calleigh's lunch from the refrigerator.

"Do you want soy sauce?"

"Yes, please," came the tired response.

"Water, seven-up? Oh, I have that white wine from the other night."

"Wine, please."

Eric chuckled at the near-whine in Calleigh's voice. Weeks like this sucked. He carried everything into the living room and sat down on the sofa next to her, intentionally invading her personal space a bit. _Here goes nothing_, Eric thought. Phase one, commence.

He set the wine on the coffee table, near Calleigh's bare feet. His eyes lingered on her blood-red toenail polish, and he tried to ignore what that simple sight did to him. Quickly averting his gaze, he made a show of flourishing her napkin, placing it grandly in her lap. Calleigh smiled and playfully slapped his hand away. Eric just smiled back and handed her a plate of food from their favorite restaurant, Mr. Chang's.

Mr. Chang owned two Chinese restaurants in Miami: one near Calleigh's house, and the other around the corner from Eric's condo. Needless to say, they spent a great deal of time eating Chinese food.

They ate in companionable silence, each aware of the elephant in the room. Seeing as that same elephant was generally present whenever they were alone together, they easily ignored it. Eric usually flipped on SportsCenter to catch the highlights while they sat and ate like this, but today he let the silence keep them company. It seemed right; the heaviness suited Eric's mood and acted as a balm for his restlessness. It also kept Calleigh on edge, which was part of his plan. He needed her out of her comfort zone.

Finally, when their plates were empty and their glasses drained, Eric rose and took the dishes to the kitchen. He thought back to last night, as Calleigh rocked Mateo to sleep in the middle of the trace lab. '_Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels' wings.'_

How many times had he thought that as he teetered on the edge of sleep? How many nights had he laid awake thinking about Calleigh, wishing she could just understand a fraction of how much he loved her?

Eric set the plates gingerly in the sink, not bothering to wash them before he returned to the sofa, and to Calleigh, with the bottle of wine in his hand. He refilled their glasses, and the silence persisted as they sat thinking and sipping.

Phase two, commence. "Why don't you just stay here for a while, Calleigh?"

Her face came up to meet his in question. Eric continued, "I'm too exhausted to drive you home right now. We could both use some rest."

Calleigh sighed. _He's right_. "That's fine. I'll crash in your guest room for a while. Umm," she paused, thinking about the clothes she was wearing—and had been wearing for two days. "Do you mind if I get cleaned up?"

Eric noticed her hesitation. She had showered a hundred times here, before. But that was before. Before this thing between them had spiraled out of control.

"Go ahead," he said. "I'll grab you a change of clothes."

Calleigh smiled and muttered a quiet 'thanks' as she headed to Eric's bedroom. She forced herself to keep her eyes trained on the path to his bathroom. She'd been in this room many times, hell, she had slept in Eric's bed. She had slept in Eric's bed _with_ Eric on more than one occasion: when he drank too much and she brought him home, the night Speed died, after Marisol's funeral.

Nothing ever happened between them on those long nights, but she could remember every rise and fall of his chest as she watched him sleep, the feel of his arms around her as he held her close in comfort.

Thinking about it now threatened to overwhelm her, and Calleigh rushed into the bathroom, dodging quickly into his walk-in closet to grab a towel. She started the tap and disrobed while the hot water began to warm. Slowly, the room filled with fog, and Calleigh took a deep breath as she stepped into the steaming shower.

A few minutes later, a quiet knock at the door startled her. "Cal?"

"Yeah," Calleigh called back.

"I'm gonna set these on the counter."

Calleigh poked her head around the shower curtain briefly, just as Eric slid through the door to place the towels by the sink. Their eyes locked, and neither of them could look away. After what seemed an eternity, Eric drew a shaky breath and gracefully backed out of the bathroom, never letting his appreciative gaze fall from Calleigh's face and bare shoulder, dripping wet in the steam-filled room.

Outside the bathroom, Eric shut the door and slid to a seat at its base. _That woman is going to kill me_, he thought. He pictured just what lay on the other side of that shower curtain and had to bite down hard on his fist to keep from groaning out loud. His heart raced at the thought of a fully-naked Calleigh Duquesne only feet away, and it took all his will-power not to barge through the door and have his way with her right then.

_Great, now _I _need a shower_. Slowly, he picked himself off the floor and went to finish cleaning up his house. After he washed the dishes in the sink, Eric organized the chaos left behind by the tornado that was his family. Then, he made his way to the guest room to tidy up for Calleigh. Lucas had slept in the guest room, so Eric stripped the sheets from the bed and tossed them in a pile by the door. From the linen closet in the hallway, he snatched an extra pair of sheets.

Calleigh, meanwhile, finished her shower—_God, that man is going to kill me_—and changed into the clothes Eric left for her. Eventually, she emerged from the bathroom, fresh-faced and looking for Eric. She found him making the bed in the guest room, and she decided to watch him for a minute.

He slid the sheets over the mattress with a practiced hand, swiftly tucking the corners under the edge, smoothing out the wrinkles. He reached down and grabbed two pillows, deftly slipping a pillowcase over each one. It was so… domestic… and it warmed Calleigh's heart.

Eric sensed Calleigh's presence as soon as she walked up. Actually, he could feel the heat left from the shower and smell his shampoo. _On her, my shampoo on her_. _My clothes on her…_ He stifled another groan. Instead of acknowledging her presence, Eric decided to see how long she would watch him. Quite a while, it turns out. He finished dressing the bed entirely before he turned to her.

"You're set," he said, blown away by the look on Calleigh's face. He caught her unawares, and she quickly hid the emotion from her complexion, but he saw it nonetheless. The monster in his gut began to roar once more with desire, with anger. "Sleep tight. Let me know if you need anything," he sighed.

"Thanks, Eric," Calleigh said softly as he passed her in the doorframe. She tried to avoid making contact with his hard body, but Eric (intentionally) made that impossible. He was torturing himself, he knew, but he was keeping Calleigh off-balance, as well. She couldn't hide the glaze in her eye.

* * *

Coming soon...

_Somewhere below his chin, he heard a pathetic, "You can't leave."_

_Eric sighed. Against his will, his arms tightened around the woman curled up in his lap. "Cal, tell me I have a reason to stay."_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm keeping this rated T, but the last few chapters are substantially steamier than the others. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 6

* * *

Hours later, a frustrated Eric Delko untangled himself from his sheets. He'd tossed and turned in his bed for over an hour before falling into a fitful sleep, filled with the memory of Calleigh's sweet singing. The sound of her voice permeated his being, and now it resounded in his dreams. He woke up after only a few restless hours, determined to get her out of his head.

_Impossible_. Eric spent the better part of the last few years of his life trying to get Calleigh Duquesne out of his head. Now, she slept soundly just a few feet away, wrapped in his clothes, and there was no way Eric could _not_ think about her.

"Screw it," he muttered to himself. The sun had set and the condo sat pitch black under the early night sky. He leaned over and switched on his bedside lamp, causing beams of light to cascade to the floor. _Fish bite moonbeams every night, and I love you_. Eric promptly switched the lamp off with a curse.

He couldn't fight the urge to see her. _If I'm going to be thinking about her, I might as well be able to see her._ "At least that hurts less," Eric said to no one.

As quietly as possible, he padded down the hallway and cracked open the door of the guest room. Seeing that Calleigh was, indeed, soundly asleep (_damn her!_), Eric swiftly slipped into the room and sat on the bed beside her, back against the headboard and his legs extended. Calleigh made the slightest of movements in her sleep, but then settled into her pillow.

Eric closed his eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing, surprised when he looked up at the bedside clock to see that almost an hour had passed. He gently shifted his weight on the bed to find a more comfortable position. For a moment he wondered what Calleigh would say if she woke up to find him here, but then he decided he didn't care. Half an hour more, and Eric was truly asleep for the first time that night.

* * *

Calleigh rolled over in bed, content to let the cobwebs fall from her eyes at their own sleepy pace. Soon, however, she became hyper-aware that something wasn't right. This wasn't her room, this wasn't her bed, these weren't her clothes... and _that_ certainly wasn't there when she went to bed.

_What in the—_

Calleigh moved to get a better view of the man sleeping peacefully a few feet away. No sleep-induced haze clouded her vision, now. She remembered where she was and why she was there, but for the life of her, Calleigh could not remember why Eric should be sleeping next to her.

"Eric," she whispered carefully. "Eric," she said again when he didn't respond. Carefully, Calleigh pulled one hand out from beneath the covers and rested it on Eric's forearm. She chuckled when she still received no response.

Over the years Calleigh had learned a lot of funny quirks about her friends and coworkers. Horatio did that ridiculous thing with his sunglasses. Tim had (surprisingly) loved to dance. Ryan checked his house three times before he left to make sure everything was turned off.

Natalia refused to wear the same article of clothing twice in one week. And Eric, once Eric fell asleep he was impossible to wake up. _Good thing the man doesn't snore_, Calleigh laughed to herself, thinking of all his impromptu naps in the break room.

And good thing she knew how to wake him up. It worked best on his back, but seeing as she couldn't reach that, she'd settle for what she could get. Very slowly, Calleigh placed her palm on Eric's stomach and began to rub in circles.

She smiled as he started to stir. Once, Calleigh had asked Speedle why that was the only way anyone could ever wake him up. Her question earned her a wide grin and a healthy dose of sarcasm. _'It's really quite cute'_ she could hear Tim saying. _'That's the only way his mother could ever get him out of bed. She still comes over every morning to rub his tummy and lay out his clothes.'_

Eric had thrown a water bottle at the back of Speed's head for that comment. Luckily, Eric wasn't awake enough yet to see her laughing. As soon as his eyes blinked once, twice, Calleigh reduced her laughter to a happy smile.

"What's got you smiling?" Eric asked groggily.

Calleigh laughed, despite herself. "I was just wondering if I should lay out your clothes now."

Eric thought back to that day so many years ago, and he couldn't help the sleepy grin that spread on his face. "Mmm. Hilarious," he said dryly.

Calleigh's laughter bubbled, filling the dark room. Then, she grew more sober, and asked Eric a serious question. "What are you doing here?"

He sighed, shifting to his side so he could look at her fully. "I couldn't sleep. Thank you, by the way, for waking me up." More dry humor.

Well-hidden concern knit a tiny 'V' between Calleigh's brows. She knew she was exhausted; Eric must feel like the walking dead. He had closed his eyes again, and burrowed back down into his pillow; Calleigh took the opportunity to study him more closely.

Eric's face seemed drawn, somehow. Calleigh always thought he looked so young, but right now she looked at him and saw clearly the effects of stress and anxiety. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes. Even in sleep, worry lines left their traces along his forehead. His entire body seemed tense, now that Calleigh thought about it.

"Why didn't you say anything about working two doubles in a row?" she asked quietly.

Eric cracked one eye to look at Calleigh. When he saw the concern on his best friend's face, he opened the other so he could see all of her.

"Would it have mattered?" Eric had a job to do, sleep or no sleep. He managed.

"Maybe." He rolled his eyes and Calleigh continued, "Eric, I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," he groused and pulled himself up against the headboard. Calleigh watched him move into a sitting position, wondering why he just snapped at her. She drew herself up to sit Indian-style on the bed, still half-covered by the comforter.

"Eric, I'm your friend. I have a right to worry about you."

Eric just shook his head. _Funny, because you're the one causing most of my stress these days._ "I'm fine, Cal."

Calleigh knew he was lying. He wouldn't make eye contact with her, and his upper lip was starting to curl a little. He could never play poker with her.

"Does this have anything to do with what you and Horatio were talking about on the patio last night?"

Calleigh's incredible scent and their proximity in the small room were quickly destroying Eric's ability to think strategically. The only light streamed faintly in from the hallway and the lamp he'd left on in the living room. If Eric wasn't careful, Calleigh would destroy his plan to stay in control. _Time to go on the offensive._

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes. Eric was up to something. He knew exactly how to keep her guessing, and he often used it to his advantage.

"Okay… care to tell me what that was about?"

"No."

Calleigh huffed in frustration. "Eric, you tell me you want me to come over so that we can talk. I am trying to talk, but now you want to play games?"

"Games? No," he said.

_What the crap is that supposed to mean? _Calleigh thought. "Fine. We're not playing games. What are we doing?"

Eric leaned back against the headboard for a few minutes ignoring her question. Just as Calleigh was about to break the silence, he began to speak.

"Do you remember when Mateo and Magdalena were born?"

_Okay, random_. If Eric wasn't going to give her straight answers tonight, Calleigh would just have to humor him.

"Yeah, I do. They came a month early, and you took time off to help Isa and Mariano."

Eric nodded, deep in thought. "The doctors cleared Lena first. She came home three weeks before Mateo. Isabel was a wreck—she couldn't be at home _and_ at the hospital."

"So you looked after the boys, and Mariano took care of Magdalena." Calleigh wondered where he was going with this.

Another nod. "Isa loves music. She always has…" Eric paused, thinking back to two years ago. On more than one occasion, Eric found himself in charge of both Alejandro and Lucas (still in diapers), and taking care of Marisol at the same time. Marisol's treatments were at the same hospital where the twins were delivered, and Eric was constantly darting between floors checking on his family. He felt a familiar pang in his gut at the thought of those days with Mari.

"One day I went up to see them in the NICU. Isabel was sobbing, because Mateo was upset and she couldn't touch him. When I finally got her calmed down, I asked the nurse if she had a portable radio. That was the first night Isa sang Mateo to sleep."

Calleigh had listened intently as Eric told his story, but now her entire body was on edge. Images of a sleepy little boy, nestled trustingly in her arms, danced across her mind's eye. A quiet melody played in her ear. _Godspeed, little man. __Sweet dreams, little man..._

"Eric?"

He still hadn't made eye contact with her. Staring at his hands in his lap, Eric finally got to the point. "Last night, Horatio and I were testing our theory about the security tapes in the A/V lab. Campbell used the Crime Lab footage to show us how the tapes were looped."

Calleigh understood, now, at least in part. She bowed her head. "He used the cameras from the trace lab."

"Mhmm."

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment; Calleigh hadn't sung in front of someone else since the second grade. Last night she unwittingly put on a private show for her boss, her best friend, and a complete stranger. She didn't know whether to be angry, or concerned at why this was bothering Eric. She went for the latter.

"Is that what's been bugging you? That I sang to Mateo?"

Eric finally looked up and met Calleigh's troubled gaze. "No."

_Okay._ "Eric, you're gonna have to explain this to me, then. Because I don't understand."

A fire kindled somewhere behind Eric's eyes that sent a chill down Calleigh's spine. "Do you know why I couldn't sleep earlier, Cal?" he asked fervently. He didn't wait for an answer. "Because every time I closed my eyes I saw a tiny little boy. A little boy with dark skin, and curly brown hair, and piercing green eyes."

Calleigh's chill turned to a full-blown shiver with the intensity of Eric's words. "Eric—" she breathed.

"Don't. Don't say something we'll both regret later."

"What do you want from me, then, Eric?" she asked angrily. "You can't just throw something like that out there."

"What do I want? What do I want," Eric stated mirthlessly. He offered no reply, but he flung himself off the bed and started pacing around the small room.

Seeing that Eric wasn't going to answer, Calleigh moved to sit on the edge of the bed and watch him. She had a nasty sense of foreboding, especially when she thought about the looks on his and Horatio's faces when she interrupted them last night. "Eric, what is going on?"

Again, he dismissed her question, but volleyed with one of his own. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"What?"

"Why do you push me away?"

He could only be referring to one thing. In every other aspect of their lives, Calleigh was completely unguarded with Eric. In fact, she depended on him many times, though she would never admit it.

Panic flooded Calleigh's veins as she processed different pieces of Eric's cryptic behavior. Eric had seen her singing to Mateo, and she was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had no walls up for that little boy. So whether she realized it or not, Eric had seen every last one of her carefully hidden emotions last night.

Then there was the scene on the patio. Horatio seemed almost…scared. If it was possible for Horatio Caine to be scared. Calleigh hadn't seen that look on his face since Eric was shot; she shuddered at just the thought. All of them were so frightened that they would lose Eric, that he would never walk through the Crime Lab doors again.

_He wouldn't_… Calleigh's mind raced with the implications of this conversation. "Eric," she said slowly. "Tell me what you were talking to Horatio about."

"NO."

She threw her hands up in exasperation, pushing herself off the bed to stand in front of the tall Cuban she could barely see in the dark. "You know what, Eric? That's not fair. You expect me to open up to you, but you won't do the same in return?"

_Bingo_, Eric said to himself, satisfied that Calleigh had played along so well. He needed a way to tell her how serious he was about this, about _her_, and she'd just provided him with the perfect means.

"You want to know what we were talking about last night?"

Calleigh nodded stubbornly. "I asked you the question."

Eric pinned her with a fearsome look. "Then you damn well better be prepared for the answer."

Across from him, he saw Calleigh visibly steel herself for a fight. "Fine."

"I watched you with Mateo. I saw everything. The way you touched him, the way you looked at him, the way you kissed his forehead." Calleigh crossed her arms in front of her, not liking where this was going.

Eric's voice took on a hint of a growl, and he took a step toward her. "You think you can hide from me, Cal. But you can't. I know. I can see it."

Calleigh's eyes snapped to Eric's. Right now she hated this man. Hated him for invading a private moment, for seeing right through her. "I don't know what you thought you saw—"

"The same thing I see in your eyes _every day_, Calleigh! You, fighting against yourself, against me. What I don't understand is why."

She stayed silent, so Eric continued. "I kept asking myself what I did wrong," he said, his voice cracking. "Why you wouldn't love me."

The darkness in the tiny room suddenly seemed suffocating. '_Why you wouldn't love me.' Is that what he thinks?_

"Talking to Horatio," Eric interrupted her reverie, "I realized that I didn't do anything wrong. I let you know my intentions. I've given you your space. I've backed off when you needed me to. Calleigh, I'm done."

_Horatio. Intentions. Space. _She drowned in Eric's words. The way he said, 'Calleigh, I'm done,' unnerved her.

"You're _done_?" she asked.

He nodded, pacing faster again. "I'm done trying to hide what I feel from you. Done pretending I don't know that you feel the same way. Done offering my heart up on a platter."

"That's not fair, Eric," Calleigh defended. "You can't pin this all on me. You can't, you can't—" Anger and hurt usurped her ability to speak clearly.

"Not _fair_?" Eric was yelling now. "Not fair is watching you run to a man you don't love instead of me. Not fair is being with you fourteen hours every day knowing I can never be _with_ you. That isn't fair, Calleigh."

"You think it's easy for me, Eric?" Calleigh screamed back, taking a step forward so that only a foot separated them. "You think I wake up every morning and ask myself, how can I torture him today? Don't be an idiot."

"So then answer my question, Calleigh. Why do you push me away? Why don't you want to be with me?"

Calleigh's eyes brimmed up with tears at the pain she knew she caused Eric. She loved him, really she did. But so many things stood in between them. She couldn't admit that she wanted to be with him, because she couldn't explain why she kept him at arm's length.

Eric saw the internal tug-of-war return. _Not this time_, he swore to himself. This time he would make up her mind for her. Want and desperation change a man, and this was Eric's last shot.

Calleigh barely looked up in time to see Eric barreling straight for her. She had no time to react, no time to fight back, before he forced them both back against the wall.

His strong hands encircled her wrists, pinning her arms to the wall on either side of her body, which Eric met with his length for length. His lips were centimeters from her face, and his hot, ragged breath fanned her flushed skin. She felt the tension in the room explode.

"You ask me what I want from you, Calleigh?" Eric asked roughly. "Nothing. I don't want a thing from you. I just want _you_."

Emerald depths met chocolate brown. Eric knew what it cost Calleigh not to fight him tooth and nail right now. He had taken the upper hand; she was letting him keep it.

Eric leaned into her deliberately, moving his lips to her ear. "I want—" he paused to press a barely-there kiss to her ear. "I want to watch you quiver as I run my finger down your body. From your temple," he ghosted a hand against her skin, his voice lowering impossibly as he followed the path his words described, "to your cheek. Across your neck, along the swell of your breast."

Calleigh's breathing became erratic and her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord as Eric's bold touch skimmed down her body, deftly caressing the side of her breast. The sound of Eric's voice full of desire made her blood boil.

"I want to make you moan with pleasure, feel your body writhing underneath me as I make love to you. I want to hear you scream my name as we fall over the edge again, and again, and again," he growled.

_God, Eric._

She felt his breath whisper hot and moist against her ear, his muscular body rocking into hers with each visceral 'again.' Calleigh bit down on her lip until she tasted copper in her mouth.

Eric heard a whimper escape from Calleigh, pinned between him and the wall. "Please don't do this, Eric," she begged him. "Please."

That was it. Eric had his answer. Numbly, he pulled away from this woman he loved so desperately. Without a word, he turned and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

_Eric heard a whimper escape from Calleigh, pinned between him and the wall. "Please don't do this, Eric," she begged him. "Please."_

_That was it. Eric had his answer. Numbly, he pulled away from this woman he loved so desperately. Without a word, he turned and left the room._

* * *

In the living room, Eric rummaged for something on his desk, throwing books and manuals aside, disregarding the neat piles of papers. Calleigh followed him into the room, seeking control over her thoroughly ravaged senses. Her knees still shook and her abdomen quivered low and deep.

_What the hell?_ she thought as she watched Eric tear apart his office space.

"Eric, what are you doing?" Calleigh asked quietly, a little bit scared at his sudden change in mood and direction. She had known this conversation would be intense, but she never expected such decisive honesty from Eric.

He turned to her with fire in his eyes. "Calleigh, I want everything with you," he exclaimed passionately, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his right hand.

"I want your mornings and your nights. I want your cranky days, your good days, your ridiculous days." Eric's brown eyes never left Calleigh's emerald orbs. His face was contorted with the magnitude of his love for this woman.

"I want to put my ring on your finger and call you my wife. I want to be called your husband. I want little boys with olive skin and green eyes, and I want to hear you sing them to sleep every night."

Calleigh sat on the couch staring up at Eric and fighting the extreme urge to cry, her wretched heart knowing that she could have all that and more, if she could just say the words.

Eric continued. "I'll never want those things with any other woman, for the rest of my life." He sighed in defeat, but spoke his next words with firm resolve. "The thing is, Cal, I know you want it, too. But if you won't let me in, I refuse to stay here and pretend I can be your best friend and nothing more."

"What?" Calleigh asked in teary alarm. _Horatio, on the patio,_ she thought with dread. _I had seen that look before._ She was right— it was the look on Horatio's face as they stood by Eric's side at the hospital. Alexx had just told them about Eric's brain damage, that he might never be the same. That he might never come back to CSI.

_He might never come back to CSI._ Calleigh stopped breathing, and the dread in her heart turned to horror on her face. "Eric, no!" she whispered. Her eyes pleaded with him, only to be met with steely determination.

"My resignation. I won't go back, Calleigh. Not like this."

Calleigh choked on her unshed tears, trying to understand how Eric could just leave. After nine years of friendship, after everything they'd been through together, he would leave it all behind. She threw herself off the couch to stand in front of her best friend.

"Eric, please. You don't have to do this." Calleigh shook her head, attempting to regain some sense of rational thought. This might possibly be the most important conversation she ever had. With a somewhat less shaky voice, she said, "I know I'm not being fair to you Eric, but you can't just leave our friendship behind you in the dust, like none of it mattered. You can't just leave CSI. Where will you go?"

Eric's tone was sharp with anger. "I don't know, Calleigh. And it doesn't matter. But I have to find a way to be happy, and I can't do that in Miami, working at CSI. Not when I come to work every day to see the love of my life act like she doesn't love me back. It's torture, Cal! And I won't do it anymore."

Calleigh's mouth dropped open in hurt and shock as she realized just how far over the edge she had driven Eric Delko. She took a few numb steps backward, falling to sit when her legs knocked into the sofa. As the realization of Eric's decision sank in, Calleigh dropped her head to her hands in despair.

"No," she muttered to herself, shaking her head again with eyes squeezed tight. "No, no, no, no…" Her muffled cries became strangled by the sobs now silently wracking her chest, begging for escape.

Eric watched the woman he loved slowly destruct. Calleigh's body trembled violently, and he could feel her desolate _no's _just as well as he could hear them. Hating himself for his weakness, Eric set the letter on his coffee table and went to the couch, gathering Calleigh into his arms.

Although he rocked her and rubbed her back, despite the gentleness of his touch on her hair and the way he held her close to his chest, Calleigh still felt the anger and resignation his tense body screamed. Her heart broke even more with the knowledge that Eric was still willing to comfort a woman who had just stolen his only chance at love and happiness.

Eric's thoughts ran along the same sad lines. He listened to Calleigh's quiet, shattering words, and the man fought to maintain _some _kind of emotional distance between them. Calleigh lay against his chest, frantically clutching his shirt, mind whirling. She tried to think of something to say, but her words remained locked in her chest.

She wanted to tell Eric, she wanted him to know everything about her—about her family, her hometown, the first boy she kissed in third grade, her favorite field to watch the Louisiana sunset. She wanted to show Eric the church she grew up in, wanted him to meet her friends from college. She wanted him to know how much she wanted _him,_ and why she couldn't just lay her heart on the line.

Calleigh had never wanted that before with anyone, and the realization made her sick to her stomach—because she knew that no matter how badly she wanted to give her whole heart to this man, she couldn't. She physically couldn't. Loving Eric wasn't that simple.

Eric watched the battle of emotions on Calleigh's face, and he knew that love would lose out to fear. She couldn't give him a reason to stay. And Eric wanted to scream at her and shake her because he knew she had every reason for him to stay. After everything he'd said, even knowing that Eric would leave her forever, she couldn't let go.

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat and took a deep breath, blinking back the tears in his eyes. _Loving her isn't enough_, Eric thought as his world ripped in two.

Eric couldn't look at Calleigh as he moved her out of his lap. Numbly, he took the resignation letter from the coffee table and grabbed his keys. Calleigh watched wide-eyed as Eric walked toward the door without a word and slipped his shoes on to leave.

She could feel the words in her throat, itching for release. Calleigh felt a literal pull of her body toward Eric as the words bubbled and fought, threatening to choke her. Still, nothing came. And still, Eric walked away from her. Away from her, away from them, and toward a life without a woman who couldn't love him.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: One more chapter to go...

Chapter 8

* * *

_She could feel the words in her throat, itching for release. Calleigh felt a literal pull at her body as they bubbled and fought, threatening to choke her. Still, nothing came. And still, Eric walked away from her. Away from her, away from them, and toward a life without a woman who couldn't love him._

* * *

Calleigh launched herself off the couch, crying out to Eric, but only nonsense escaped her lips.

"I've—this—it's—_Damnit!!_" Calleigh sank back to the couch and buried her head in her hands. _Why can't I say this??_

Eric stood poised at the door, keys in hand, when he saw the subtle shake of Calleigh's shoulders. Finally, her walls were breaking down. The keys fell to the floor, and Eric slowly made his way back to the living room, and to Calleigh.

Calleigh Duquesne was a strong woman. Calleigh didn't cry. But when she felt Eric's weight dip into the couch beside her, instead of hearing the door shut behind him, the careful control she held over her emotions for so many years disintegrated. Eric pulled her into his lap and just let her cry.

Somewhere below his chin, he heard a pathetic, "You can't leave."

Eric sighed. Against his will, his arms tightened around the woman curled up in his lap. "Cal, tell me I have a reason to stay."

Calleigh shuddered, but said nothing. She heard the tears in Eric's voice, she knew how difficult this was for him, how unfair she was being. She tried to crawl even closer to him, hold on even tighter. Eric knew Calleigh needed some time to sort through this emotional chaos, and he was willing to give it to her.

Eventually, he felt her take a deep breath and expel it, the warm air tickling his neck where her nose was buried. Calleigh moved back just far enough to make eye contact with Eric, but only briefly. _If I'm going to do this, I can't look in his eyes._

So with her eyes trained on her hands resting in her lap, Calleigh began. "You can't leave. I'm sorry I push you away. But please don't leave."

Eric remained quiet, absentmindedly playing with the strands of blonde hair at Calleigh's back. He had pressed her enough tonight, fought with her enough; now it was Calleigh's turn to talk.

After a minute, she continued. "You asked me why I do that. Why I push you away, why I ran to Jake." She took another deep breath. "Th-the day you were shot I… I—no Eric I need to do this," Calleigh said as Eric tried to interrupt.

She met him full in the eyes. "The day you were shot, I lost it, Eric. Has—has Horatio ever told you what happened?"

Eric's eyes were filled with confusion, which told Calleigh that her boss had kept his promise that Eric, or anyone else for that matter, would never know about the events of that day. Calleigh cleared her throat in an attempt to get rid of the giant lump that constricted her windpipe.

"I—I helped track down your shooter. We got him, and," her voice quavered, "and as soon as the interrogation was over, I left."

"What do you mean you left?" Eric asked, a little unsettled._ She just _quit_, out of the blue? That's the last thing Calleigh would do. Rationality, control, perfection. Never taken a sick day in her life, that's Calleigh._

"As in, I _left_. That afternoon. I turned off my phone, cleared off my desk. I had no intention of going back." She brought her fingers up to play with Eric's shirt, trying to find the words to explain.

"Where did you go?"

"Here," she stated softly. Eric hugged her tight, thankful for this tiny confession. "Horatio found me. He knew where to look," Calleigh laughed sardonically. "Of course."

That earned a tiny smile from Eric. "What happened?"

"When he got here, I think I scared him…I don't really remember all the details, to tell you the truth. I've—I've never cried so hard in my entire life." _This is getting easier, _she thought.

She shifted in his lap, finding the perfect spot and sighing contentedly as she snuggled into him. Surrounded by Eric, consumed by his comforting presence, Calleigh finally let go.

"I was terrified, Eric. Terrified that you would never wake up, that if you _did_ wake up you wouldn't be _my_ Eric, my best friend. When Horatio found me—I wasn't even coherent. I'd just collapsed when I walked through the door. He had to carry me into your bedroom, and I refused to talk to him, and I refused to leave.

"So he stayed. He covered my ass at work, and he stayed. For two days. After you were released from the hospital, I went back to work, under the condition that I would go talk to someone. I agreed, as long as Horatio promised never to mention my little breakdown."

"God, Calleigh, I am so sorry," Eric whispered, a stubborn tear escaping from his eye. Calleigh looked up just as it fell, and she wiped it away with the pad of her thumb. She let her hand stay on his cheek, forcing him to look at her, and ensuring he heard her next words.

"Getting shot was _not_ your fault, Eric. We know going into our jobs that something like that is always a possibility."

"I know, but still—" Eric said, only to be interrupted by Calleigh's fingers on his lips.

"Stop. It's done," Calleigh whispered. He saw the tears well up in her eyes. "The thing is—I promised myself a long time ago I would never, ever let anyone get close enough to hurt me."

Eric heard the unspoken '_again_', and he wished this amazing woman had never known so much hurt and neglect.

"I was doin' just fine, until you came along," she laughed dryly. Suddenly she leaned back in his lap and locked his eyes with hers, her words spilling out in a confused rush.

"Eric, you are my friend, my best friend, but you have this uncanny ability to play with my emotions more than anyone I've ever known. It's not a bad thing," Calleigh pulled his chin up with her fingers. He had to hear this.

"The day you got shot—I mean, not even with Tim…" she sniffed, the tears beginning to leak from the corners of her eyes. Eric fought the urge to wipe them away; he wanted her to do this on her own.

"I had to ask myself why. Why was it so different? The answer—the answer scared me to death."

"Cal—"

Calleigh gave a small sob and pulled away from him completely, sitting on the couch beside him. She spoke with urgency. "No! It was different because it was _you. _Eric—it's never _been_ like this for me before, and…"

"And that scares you," Eric concluded for her, his heart breaking with her tears. She gave an almost-imperceptible nod.

"Calleigh, you know I would never intentionally hurt you."

"That isn't what I'm worried about, Eric," she said honestly. "Maybe at first, but I know better now."

"Then what?"

"That street goes both ways. What if _I_ hurt _you_? Listen!" Calleigh said firmly as Eric tried to object. "I never—I can't be someone I'm not. I am not that girl who opens up to every random stranger on the sidewalk."

"I wouldn't want you if you were," Eric chuckled and kissed her on the forehead, making Calleigh's cheeks turn an appealing shade of pink.

"You really mean that, don't you?" she said, awestruck at the size of this man's heart.

"Cal, I can't—I can't change the way I feel about you. I'm just asking for a chance. You need to know that I am never going to ask you for more than you can give."

'_After all... I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.'_ How many times had Calleigh watched that movie? How many times had she forced Eric to watch it with her? More than she could count. Suddenly Calleigh was laughing. Laughing, and throwing herself back into Eric's lap, and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Eric looked completely taken aback. Within the span of a single hour, he had experienced angry Calleigh, sobbing Calleigh, guilty Calleigh, and now…insane Calleigh?

"Cal? Are you okay?

She pulled back to look at him. "You love me," she said with a smile that made Eric glad he was sitting down. Calleigh shifted her body so that she was straddling him, keeping her arms around his shoulders. "You love me."

Eric was at a loss for words. _What the hell have I been trying to tell her all night!_ He settled for simple truth and a lopsided grin. "Yeah, I sort of do."

She hugged him tight and buried her face in his shoulder, letting his words sink in. "You know, I'm not that easy to love," Calleigh said in a muffled voice, sounding a little uncertain.

"I'm not scared of that, Cal." Eric's hands were skimming up and down her arms, and now he used them to pull her away a few inches. He wanted to see her face. "What scares me is the thought of not waking up to you every day for the rest of my life."

Calleigh's breath hitched in her throat. Eric's eyes threatened to melt her where she was. She felt like complete jell-o, and it took all of her strength just to move the three inches that separated their lips.

After the tumult of the last few hours, the screaming, the rage, the pent-up tension, _nothing_ prepared them for the slow, sultry, spine-tingling devastation of their first kiss.

Never in his life had Eric Delko kissed a woman this slowly and surely, like the very span of his life coincided with how slowly he could drink her in. Their pace was torturous, but he almost felt like kissing Calleigh would always be torturous for him, like he could never be close enough to her.

_I can sure try_, Eric thought as he snuck his hands down to her rear and pulled her firmly against him. At the same time, he shifted them slightly to the side on the sofa, so that she had room to wrap her legs around his waist. A deep moan escaped from somewhere within Calleigh, and she arched her back into him, trying for all she was worth to hold onto this man forever, in the space of a few seconds.

Loving Eric _was_ that simple. Kissing each other was simple. And as Calleigh felt Eric's tongue sweep across her bottom lip, begging for entrance, every thought flew from her mind save one: loving each other was the simplest thing they'd _ever _do.

Eric felt his way up Calleigh's body with his hands, leaving one hand to caress her stomach and the arc of her back, the other diving into her hair. With the hand at the base of her neck, Eric angled Calleigh _just_ right and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

Kissing Eric just became Calleigh's favorite activity. His tongue dueled sensually with her own, fighting for dominance within her depths. He explored every part of her with his mouth, his hands making other discoveries up and down the rest of her body.

Finally, Calleigh felt the over-powering need to breathe. _Damn him and his swimmer's lungs_. With excruciating effort, she pulled back from Eric. Both their chests heaved with exertion. Eric thought he might die from the sound of Calleigh millimeters from his lips, panting for air. He counted to five in his head before reclaiming her mouth as his own.

Hands roamed, lips danced, and lives altered. Eric separated his lips from Calleigh's, again, only under the duress of insufficient air. His kisses traveled to her neck, lingering on her racing pulse. He hit _that_ spot behind her ear, just as his hand slipped under the hem of her blouse, and Calleigh came undone. "Eric," she breathed desperately into his ear. She nipped his lobe and soothed it with her tongue. His fingers left a trail of fire on her skin. "Eric, please."

Hearing those words, hearing Calleigh Duquesne pleading with him, caused something in Eric to snap. She was relinquishing control. With two words, she let him know just how much she wanted him, how much she _needed_ him.

He stopped his assault on Calleigh's neck. His hands stilled on her body, and he stayed frozen for a moment before his head fell to her shoulder. Achingly slow, Eric wrapped his arms around her delicate frame, willing their bodies to melt into one.

Their frenzied pace was gone, replaced by the desperate need to hold on to what they'd found, to heal the hurts of the past. Calleigh felt something hot and wet roll down her neck—a single, solitary tear drop.

She fought the urge to dissolve into tears herself and tightened her hold around Eric's shoulders. She brought one hand to cradle his head, her fingers trailing along the edge of his faint scar. For the first time in her life, Calleigh felt total, unadulterated love for someone.

Over and over again, she ran her hand from Eric's back, over his shoulders, and gently over his once-broken skull. The scar which had once so terrified Calleigh now became one of the things she couldn't resist about him. "Eric?" Calleigh whispered.

"Hmm."

"I love you," she declared simply and quietly, holding him tightly in her arms and willing herself not to cry. "I love you, I love you."

Calleigh felt Eric repress the tiniest of sobs, and she struggled to hold him any closer than she already was. One tear, two tears against her neck, then a sniffle.

"Calleigh," he could only whisper back, his voice constricted. "Thank you."

Eric battled in vain to maintain the control he'd held over himself all day. Love, desire, and utter exhaustion sent him over the emotional edge, and it didn't much matter to him, because he fell into Calleigh. He breathed in her intoxicating scent as she caressed his back, and Eric realized what he knew all along: this was home.

Endless minutes passed until Calleigh finally broke the pervading silence with an unrestrained giggle. Eric didn't move from his current position, but he tightened his impossible hold on her. His own wide grin spread against Calleigh's collarbone.

"What's so funny?" he asked in a low, lust-driven voice Calleigh had never heard before. She knew she would spend a lifetime learning about Eric. This was just the beginning.

That thought caused her giggle to bubble into full-blown laughter. Soon, Eric was chuckling, too, even though he had no idea why. He pulled back to look her in the eyes, and realized with a jolt that the pain that made it impossible to breathe, that constricted his heart for so long, was gone.

He pressed an impulsive kiss to Calleigh's lips mid-laugh, which only fanned the flames. "What is so funny?" he laughed.

Eric shifted one of his thumbs to nudge her side. He immediately regretted his decision when Calleigh jerked in his arms; the friction caused by her sudden movement left them both groaning.

Desire returned in full force, and now Eric was the one pleading. His head dropped back to her shoulder, and he could barely manage a gravelly, 'Please, Cal.'

Calleigh fought the wave of longing that broke over her. Eric had her at the brink earlier, trapped against a goddamn wall; now it was time for her to have a little fun.

Gently, she lifted Eric's head with her shoulder, until he saw what she wanted and raised his head the rest of the way. His normally chocolate-brown eyes had turned jet-black with want for her, and the heady knowledge of his desire made Calleigh's entire body hum.

She kept her emerald eyes locked on Eric's as she took his face in both her hands. "You know, I'm not exactly comfortable like this," Calleigh said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"No? 'Cause I'm pretty damn comfortable," Eric replied, trying to lean in to kiss her. She resisted.

"Nuh uh uh, not so fast mister." Calleigh squirmed in his lap, eliciting a feral growl from the man underneath her.

"Not. Fair."

Calleigh grinned. "Oh, I don't know. You pin me to a wall, I pin you to a couch… Sounds pretty fair to me."

"Is this _funny_, to you?" Eric was trying desperately not to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into his bedroom, but she was making that extremely difficult at the moment.

"No. Not at all. In fact," Calleigh purred as she pushed Eric into a prone position on the sofa, "I am so serious, I want to make sure we get this right."

"Get what right?" Eric asked hazily, only half-aware of what he was saying. The other half of his brain was solely focused on the woman currently straddling him on his living room couch.

"Well," she squirmed again, Eric's hands coming to hold her hips in place in order to keep his sanity. Calleigh slowly lowered herself until her face hovered directly above his, separated only by inches. "I distinctly remember you saying it would be my body writhing underneath yours, but I think we got that part wrong."

_Jesus Christ. Turnabout is definitely _not _fair play with this woman._ Eric cleared his throat. "Hmm. Is that so? What else did I say?" he asked, knowing this playful banter was about to be blown to hell.

"Well," the petite blonde whispered as she leaned down to lavish kisses along Eric's jaw. "There was something about me screaming your name as we fell over the edge again, and again, and again." She punctuated each of her words with a sensual kiss to Eric's neck. "But you got that wrong, too."

At this point, Eric could no longer speak. He simply said, "Mmm?"

"_You'll _be screaming _my _name…again, and again, and again."

_Holy—._ He should have known he could never keep the upper hand where Calleigh was concerned. So much for his grand battle plan. He'd gladly hoist a white flag for this woman.

Eric crushed his lips to Calleigh's in a blazing fury of passion and love and eight-fucking-years of compounding tension. With supernatural strength he managed to leverage both of them off the couch, gathering Calleigh in his arms as he carried her to the bedroom.

Two feet to the edge of his bed and Eric tripped over the shoes he'd discarded earlier. Both of them went flying onto the bed, landing in an undignified heap, Eric on top of Calleigh. She rolled with laughter as Eric tried unsuccessfully to reposition them on the bed without breaking contact with her lips. Eventually, clothes were discarded, along with any barriers still left between them. All the anger and rage of the night lay forgotten at the door of Eric's bedroom, and only passion remained.

They spent that night discovering each other, laughing at the awkward moments inherent to the first time of making love with someone, and marveling at how even the awkward moments were absolutely perfect. Amid the kisses, the caresses, the moans and whispered 'I love yous,' Eric and Calleigh made a promise to each other: this was the _last_ first time.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

_Two years later…_

* * *

"¡Tía Calleigh, tía Calleigh!"

"Shh," Eric gently warned the rambunctious four-year-old.

Mateo screeched to a stop and covered his mouth with both of his hands, looking up playfully at his uncle. "Sorry, tío," he giggled. "I forget."

He dramatically tip-toed over to the rocking chair where Calleigh sat with baby Elías Timothy Delko cradled close to her chest. Oh-so-softly, Mateo placed a kiss on the crown of his cousin's head.

"Baby Eli sleeps too much," the little boy complained in a loud whisper.

"Well," Eric said, swooping his young nephew into his arms, "that's because he needs lots of sleep in order to grow up big like you!"

"¡Mateo!" rang abuela's voice from downstairs. "¡Almorcenos!"

"Gotta go." He leaned up to give his uncle a sloppy kiss on the cheek before Eric let him down and he scampered away.

"Just think, babe, four years from now…" Eric said to his wife with a gleam in his eye.

"Don't even joke, Eric," Calleigh sent him a glare. "He's already growing up too fast."

Eric sat on the floor in front of the rocking chair and put Calleigh's feet in his lap, running an absent-minded hand up and down her calf. "Cal, Eli's only three months old."

"So."

Eric laughed. He knew better than to argue with his wife.

"Cal?"

Calleigh looked at those brown eyes she loved so much. "Hmm."

"Sing me a song?"

A happy grin spread across her face. Here with her husband and her son, Calleigh Duquesne had never been happier. She gazed at the soft bundle in her arms, and slowly, she began to sing…

_Godspeed, little man  
Sweet dreams, little man  
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings  
Godspeed  
Godspeed  
Godspeed  
Sweet dreams._


End file.
